


Building Dams

by WinterTheWriter



Series: Building Happily Ever After [11]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Doctor Who (2005), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Graphic depictions of Daleks getting the shit beaten out of them, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Timey-Wimey, light humor, plot resolution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-09-06 16:36:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8760667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterTheWriter/pseuds/WinterTheWriter
Summary: One can only put off the breaking down of the universes for so long before something like this happens.





	1. The Fight

**Author's Note:**

> Update!! Long update, even. Multichapter, even though there are only going to be two. It's five am right now and I'm pretty sure I can smell colors but I updated on time and that's what matters. Thank you to all those who've been commenting and kudos-ing -- even if I forget to respond, you have no idea how much every single email warms my heart. Also, my wonderful awesome friend Rae made a Pinterest board for Stoschei and it's glorious, so do follow if you're into that. https://www.pinterest.com/unblessedmoon/otp-freedom-and-time-travel/
> 
> (PS: The Doctor is a bit of a douchebag in this. This behavior does not reflect upon my personal feelings for him. The tenth Doctor happens to be my favorite and I love him with all my heart, but I had to do what I had to do for this story.)
> 
> Enjoy!

The sun sets pink-orange over the city, light reflecting off the skyscrapers and making everything sparkle and shine. It’s an early, cool evening and from the roof of the Tower, Koschei can just barely make out the top of the Christmas tree in Rockefeller. Below him, the busy crowds look like nothing but black swaths of movement, writing and shifting together in a natural harmony. But it is not peaceful. Nothing about this is peaceful. 

The entirety of Manhattan is screaming. This is not star-gazing, this is a fight. 

Koschei leaps from the Tower without looking and when he lands, boots crumbling the pavement under them, he barely pauses before taking off running. Steve is shouting directions at everyone into his ear-piece comm and Koschei touches a finger to it to chime in. “Aim for the eyestalks, everyone. Aim for the eyestalks and crush from above. If you can blind them, they’re vulnerable, and if they’re vulnerable, you can crack open their casings and end them.” Everyone, Steve included, acknowledges his command.

This fight is now deeply, deeply personal. 

Above him, the Hulk roars through a barrage of beams and a chorus of “EXTERMINATE,” his hand grabbing several at once and just plain slamming them into rubble. If Koschei weren’t so enraged, he’d probably laugh, but his vision is red and he doesn’t even have his gun with him — blue, pure energy crackles through him and out his fingertips, blasting straight through half a dozen Daleks without a second thought. Gods, is he glad the Doctor can’t see him now.

“So much for aiming for the eyestalks, huh, Kos?” Tony snarks into the comm. Koschei punches his fist straight through the eyestalk of a Dalek and into the metal casing, hand clenching around the fleshy body inside and jolting a lethal burst of energy into it. With a mechanic scream it splatters, and Koschei pulls his hand out and shakes it free of gunk.

“Do as I say, not as I do,” he finally replies, quirking an eyebrow up at the Iron Man suit as it flies overhead. 

The Daleks came all at once. When that injured, so-called-helpless Dalek zapped out of their living room after Koschei’d made all those threats, well, they weren’t exactly pleased. And, unfortunately, the Rift between the universes had been growing at an alarming rate, so it was all too easy for them to slip through and make a statement. In the comm, Clint mutters something about how the bad guys always have to invade on weekends. 

“Hey, babe? I got you a present,” Steve calls, completely ignoring Clint’s comment. Koschei pauses mid-run and looks up, squinting through the setting sun. He hears the drawn-out, steadily-loudening screech of a Dalek before he sees it falling through the air right towards him, the bottom of its casing torn off and engulfed in flames. With a curse, Koschei leaps up to catch it mid-air, both hands raised above his head so he can double-punch/shoot energy up the flaming hole. He lands on his feet. The Dalek does not. 

“Much appreciated, Steve,” he drawls back. Steve laughs in response before getting lost in the fight. Sam makes gagging noises. 

“How do you two manage to be mushy during a /fight/?” he groans. 

“Trust me,” Koschei retorts, pausing only to grunt his exertion as he dodges a rainfall of beams and lobs the door of a car at them, “this is /not/ us being mushy.” 

“I love you, my oogie-woogie love bear,” Steve coos. Every Avenger, including Koschei, pauses what they’re doing just to sound adequately disgusted.

“Annnnd I’m single,” Koschei sing-songs. Steve replies with an indignant “hey!” that sends them all laughing, but the sudden appearance of at least two-hundred more Daleks ends the brief reprieve. 

For the next few hours, the team’s communication is kept at a minimum. At one point, Steve barks at them to make sure at least one Dalek is detained instead of killed, and Koschei makes it very clear that he was /not/ going to be the one to spare it. He understands they need one alive — in fact, he probably would’ve barked the order himself if Steve hadn’t — but it will be a cold, icy day in Hell before he lets a Dalek live by his hand. Fighting them has him flashing back to the Time War in his mind and before he knows it, he’s singing the Citadel’s Official Anthem in Old High Gallifreyan under his breath while he fights. /Viva la Gallifrey/, he thinks bitterly. 

And then, when only five — “HULK SMASH!” — four Daleks remain, he hears it. From behind him, he hears the unmistakable whirring-whine of the TARDIS, just like in the park. Only this time, it gets louder as it materializes rather than fading away and it’s followed by the oil-dry screech of hinges as the door swings open. Koschei whips his head around to look, freezing in place. He gets one shared, half-terrified look with the Doctor before a wayward Dalek slams into him from the side and knocks him down hard. Three, then. 

“Koschei?!” Steve calls into the comm urgently. Koschei groans and pushes the Dalek off himself, grunting as he gets back to his feet.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Just got a bit distracted, is all,” he says, glancing back at the Doctor as he does so. The Doctor raises an eyebrow at him, face stern and eyes cold, and all Koschei can do is duck his head and rush away to finish his duty. 

It almost works. He almost forgets the Doctor is there (what is he even doing?), all of his attention focused on killing two of those three Daleks left. When they’re down to that chosen one, its sucker and blaster viciously torn off (Koschei graciously volunteered) and its technology disabled, the Avengers herd it into the Tower, locking it into the cell Loki once inhabited. Outside, SHIELD’s damage-control crew is already hard at work. Inside, the Doctor is already waiting for them, leaning back against the control panel with his arms crossed and his face thunderous. Natasha’s already reaching for her gun but Koschei puts a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t,” he whispers. “I know him. He means us no harm.” 

“Your friends need to learn to knock,” she shoots back, but she re-holsters her gun anyways. The Dalek screeches from within its cell, driving itself into the glass over and over again. 

“Oh, /do/ give it a rest,” the Doctor snaps at it. It’s the first thing Koschei’s heard him say since, well, since the last time they met. His hearts give a strange lurch and he wordlessly reaches back for Steve’s hand, who grabs his and gives it a reassuring squeeze. The Doctor looks straight at them. His eyes linger on their hands before finally looking at Koschei’s face. “Well,” he starts. “You’ve certainly been busy.”

“What are you doing here?” Koschei asks dumbly, mouth dry. The Doctor scoffs, so Koschei clears his throat and tries again. “I had to do it, Th—Doctor. I had to fight. You saw what was happening; we all did. It was my only option.” 

“Was it? Because I’ve fought the Daleks /many/manymany…/many/ times before, and I’ve never had to do /anything/ like that. And if I did, I certainly didn’t enjoy it. More than I can say for you, from what I saw.”

“Now wait just a minute—,” Steve interrupts, but Koschei squeezes his hand and he lapses back into silence. 

“They’re Daleks. They….they took /everything/ from us. They destroyed our planet. Why would I show them mercy, especially when they came here to kill everyone /again/?”

“Actually, Koschei, if you’ll remember correctly, /I/ destroyed our planet. I took everything from us.” Something dangerous flashes in the Doctor’s eyes and he steps forward. “Are you going to kill me next?” 

Koschei’s mouth opens and closes wordlessly, tongue caught in his throat, before he swallows thickly. “That’s…—Doctor, that was /different./ You had no choice. You only did that /because of them/.” 

“A decision I’ve regretted every day of my life for the past 900 years, trumped only by my regret for marrying you.” 

Silence. 

It feels like Koschei’s hearts have just been punched out with brass-knuckles. Steve lets go of his hand. For a moment, Koschei feels the floor drop away from under him and he’s about to turn around and beg for forgiveness, but then he feels Steve step up next to him and wrap an arm around his shoulders. “And what, exactly, makes you any better than him, huh? I’m guessing you’re the infamous Other Survivor Slash Ex I’ve heard about.” 

The Doctor straightens up, shoulders squared and chest puffed. “Oh, Captain. I must say, I expected better from you. Both regarding your choice of lover and your intellect, but—,”

“No,” Koschei grits out the word, eyes narrowing. The Doctor raises his eyebrow, waiting. “No, you do not speak to or about him like that. Say what you want to me. Do what you want to me. You /leave him out of it/, Doctor, and that is final. He is Captain America, the First Avenger, and you /will/ show some respect. Have I made myself clear?”

Steve gives him this doe-eyed, lovestruck look and the Doctor grimaces, rolling his eyes. “Fine, yes,” he mutters, waving a hand dismissively. “None of that is the /point/, though. Have /any/ of you realized the obvious yet? Even a little bit? Hmmm?” 

“Dude, we get it; you’re better than all of us and we should just wallow at your feet. Can you /please/ explain why you’re here or get the fuck out of my Tower and leave my friends alone?” Tony gripes, still in his armor with his arms crossed. Koschei shoots him a grateful look and he nods back in response. The best part about having a team is that they’re there in /every/ battle. 

Some part of him, though, wants to protest. Some part of him wants to explain that the Doctor is a universal hero, who’s saved more than all of the Avengers put together, and he’s dedicated his life to mercy and kindness. He wants to explain that he /does/ deserve this treatment, and if only they knew what the Master’s done to him. The rest of him recognizes that compassion shouldn’t be conditional. Steve has spent so much time teaching him that. 

The Doctor exhales slowly and shakes his head, combing his fingers through his hair. Koschei hates how gorgeous he looks when he does that. “Four hours.” Everyone blinks. “Four hours since the last surge of Daleks. Did /none/ of you find it curious that, in four hours during a /war/, you managed to kill every Dalek — save one — and /nothing else showed up?/ No more surges? At all?” 

“This wasn’t a war,” Sam mutters. 

“They’re Daleks. Every battle is a war to them,” Koschei answers automatically, but his eyes stay locked on the Doctor. “You…fixed it, didn’t you? That’s what happened. That’s why we were able to take control. You can’t drown in a flood if the water can no longer break the dam.” 

“/Good/,” the Doctor praises. It warms him, but not nearly as much as it used to. Koschei leans into Steve’s side. “Yes. I did. And I didn’t kill a single Dalek doing so.” 

“Wait, how do we know you actually did shit? These Daleks aren’t infinite; why couldn’t they have just…run out?” Clint asks. 

The Doctor nods to Koschei, looking at him expectantly. Koschei clears his throat and shifts awkwardly on his feet. “They are not infinite, but…those Daleks shouldn’t exist in the first place. In our universe, they should all be dead. I originally thought that Dalek from our living room was from my universe, but…it’s deeper than that. Those Daleks didn’t come from /just/ another universe, they came from within a Time Lock.” He exhales shakily. “They came from Gallifrey.” 

“And….,” the Doctor coaxes. 

“He’s not a child, Doctor. Let him speak at his own pace; he’s allowed to be emotional. Someone who prides himself in his empathy should know that,” Steve snaps. Koschei squeezes his hand. 

“There were millions,” he says, continuing like nothing happened. “Millions of Daleks where they came from. And we only fought a couple thousand. Something /must’ve/ stopped them.” 

“I could say a lot of things about you, Koschei, but I can’t ever call you stupid,” the Doctor says, hands tucking into his pockets. “Yes, precisely. You see, I found out what caused the Rift. It had never closed properly after the battle at Canary Wharf — they used one of our prisons, Koschei, and you know what those things do to the space-time continuum. Not to mention their ships temporal shifting all over the place,” he tuts, “I should’ve been more careful. The influx of residual time energy from that battle jammed the crack between the universes just enough to keep it small and unnoticeable for all this time, but the use of it by /someone/ to escape the Void and hop universes — someone who already has time energy, no less — kickstarted the fractures and, well, crumbled the dam.” 

“I—,” Koschei’s hands shake. He can practically feel himself pale as what the Doctor said sinks in. His fault. It’s all his fault. He’s tried so hard to /redeem/ himself and become a good person and he’s now responsible for the death of every single civilian who died in every single battle since his arrival. Koschei hasn’t gotten better; he’s gotten /worse./ The Dalek was right. Gods, it’s no wonder the Doctor hates him so much. “I wasn’t at Canary Wharf,” he mumbles lamely, just barely keeping his composure.“…Why didn’t you stop me? You were there. We made eye-contact and you just…stood there. /Why didn’t you stop me/?” Monster, monster, monster, monster. 

He can already hear the Master laughing at him in his head. 

“I wanted to see what you would do,” the Doctor replies, all cool and calm like always. “And I wanted to remind myself of what you are.” 

Steve is about to cut in — Koschei can feel him tense up and inhale — but Natasha, surprisingly, beats him to it, stepping forward enough to force the Doctor to step back. Still, he doesn’t flinch away from her, hands still in his pockets. She reaches around him to the control panel and presses a button. Less than a second later, a false ceiling in the Dalek’s cell drops down and crushes it with a sickening splat and a cut-off scream. All the while she looks him dead in the eye, expressionless, and when she pulls back she tilts her head just so. Even though Koschei can’t see her face, he knows she’s smirking. The Doctor glares at her, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed. 

“You’re not that smart,” she says, finally, casual and faux-friendly, “and I /really/ don’t like it when strange men act like they’re better than me and my friends. I don’t know what Canary Wharf is or what happened, but I do know that if Koschei wasn’t there, there was /no way/ for him to know. And even if he did? He’s here now. This is his home. He had to solve the problem from /this/ universe, not yours, and that’s exactly what he — and the rest of us — did. Closing the Rift stopped new Daleks from showing up but it didn’t send the ones already here /back/, now did it? No. So we fought, because that’s what we do. We fought for the greater good and we saved lives and Koschei, in fact, is responsible for most of the strategy because he’s the only one who knew how to deal with these things. 

“Your ex is a hero, whether you like it or not. I don’t care /what/ he used to be like or what he did or who he was, because all I’ve ever seen from him is a man who wants to make the universe a better place through any means necessary. I’ve seen him take a truck to the back to save a child. I’ve seen him run into a fire to save a dog. And I’ve seen him love and protect /everyone/ on this team with his life, even before he trusted any of us to even know how old he was. Today, he saved millions of lives, and all you’ve done is built a dam.

“And guess what, Doctor?” She leans in again. “A dam doesn’t do /shit/ if you don’t drain the water that’s already past it.”

The Doctor stares at her silently, as does everyone else. Koschei’s eyes are pricking with tears but there’s a small smile quirking his lips. She’s right. Every word she said was right. It’s not his fault. No one thinks it’s his fault. Steve kisses Koschei’s temple like he can read his thoughts. After a few moments, the Doctor clears his throat and rocks back on his heels. “Well,” he intones, “Whedon certainly didn’t do you justice, now did he?” Koschei scoffs quietly at the reference only he would understand. Natasha just gives him a confused look. “I admire your loyalty. Truly, I do. But killing is wrong. It is /always/ wrong. And I have gone centuries battling foes left and right without ever needing to resort to it. It is not an excuse.” 

“No war has ever been won without bloodshed,” Steve says. “Not even yours. Or else there wouldn’t be only two of you left, would there?” 

“That was different,” the Doctor hisses. “Do not purport to have /any/ understanding of why I did that. I did what—-,”

“—you had to do. Yes. You had no other choice. /Neither did we./ Neither did I in World War 2, neither did Sam in Iraq. We are heroes and life-savers, Doctor. We are not as bad as our enemies by killing them to save their victims. Destroying a monster makes you the man who destroyed a monster, and that’s that. Your virtue isn’t what kept you alive all these years — luck has. Luck, intelligence, and the fact that you guys can /come back to life/ after you’ve been killed. If that’s how you want to go about saving people, fine. But you do /not/ get to come here, do the most /minimal/ amount of work to prove a stupid point, insult the love of my life and all my friends, just because you don’t like our methods.”

“Is killing a helpless, imprisoned creature and then /smiling/ about it part of your team’s methods, Captain?” the Doctor asks. Natasha barks out a “ha!” and steps back with the rest of them, crossing her arms.

“Nope, just mine. I wear the monster badge proudly,” she answers, smug and unbothered. “And for the record? In case it wasn’t clear — Koschei is /definitely/ the better one of you two.”

“He doesn’t deserve cruelty,” Koschei cuts in, although he speaks softly. “Natasha, thank you. /Really/ thank you. All of you, thank you. I cannot remember the last time I’ve been able to count on so many people, but his treatment of me is not without cause. You don’t know wha—,”

“—yes, we do,” Bruce says. He pushes Steve’s arm off his shoulder to rest his hand on his instead, a kind smile on his face. “After that night, when the Dalek showed up, I did some research. Nothing too invasive — I just took a few of the particles from your universe that came through with it to sort of hack into your universe’s history, with the help of JARVIS. I read up on you. Pieced together who the Master was and who you are. Told everyone, because I didn’t want them to accidentally make an insensitive joke or something,” he pauses to look meaningfully at Clint before looking back at Koschei, “and because I had a feeling something like this would happen.

“Koschei, we know about the Master. We know who he was. We know he’s not you. And we also do not care in the /slightest/, nor do we think any less of you for it. In fact, I admit it sorta made me feel closer to you.”

“How?” Koschei blurts out, unable to keep himself from looking horrified.  
“The Master is your Hulk. You had no control over him, but you were aware of every second. You learned how to /take/ control, and you did, instead harnessing his power and using it for good. Just like me. If I am not the Hulk, you are not the Master. If I am Bruce, you are Koschei.”

A tear runs down Koschei’s cheek and he’s speechless, completely speechless, before he swallows thickly and tries again. “I…really want to be angry at you for looking into my past without my consent, but I-I…,” he trails off, shaking his head. Bruce just grins at him and pulls him into a hug, squeezing him tight, before pulling back and turning to the Doctor. 

“Doctor, if you are as merciful and understanding as they say, you will get over the past and actually try to know who Koschei is /now./ If you can’t do that, then you should be going.” 

“Yes, well,” the Doctor sniffs lightly and tugs at his earlobe, “quite right. I see there is…much to discuss. Koschei, could we perhaps speak in private?” 

“No,” Steve answers for him. Koschei nudges him and answers instead.

“Here. Not in the TARDIS,” he demands, voice still thick with tears. “You can come to our room. Steve will…finish up here?” Koschei ends his statement like a question, looking up at Steve, who sighs before nodding slowly and flashing him a small smile. 

“Suits me,” the Doctor shrugs. 

“Right. Let’s go talk.”


	2. The Talk.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Koschei and the Doctor have their first real conversation since he was rejected. It goes both better and worse than expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boo-ya, surprise Friday update!! I'm trying to keep myself on schedule with these sequels (I have 20 more planned -- hope you like long-ass fiction) so I wanna get this lil multi-chapter beauty out of the way. I added a last-minute 3rd chapter, but don't worry -- it's already written and I'll be posting it right after I post this one. 
> 
> NOTE: Aside from the pretty severe angst-level in this chapter, I just wanna put out a trigger warning for emotional abuse/manipulation. I make the Doctor pretty textbook because, let's face it, we all saw how he treated Martha. As much as I love him, he's certainly no stranger to manipulation.

The silence is deafening. Koschei and the Doctor stand in front of each other in Koschei’s room, both awkwardly trying to figure out what to say and when to start. He desperately wants the floor to swallow him up and save him from this torture. Clearing his throat, he slowly edges around the Doctor and sits on the edge of his bed with his hands folded neatly in his lap. They start speaking at the same time.

“So—,”

“Well—,”

Beat. The Doctor coughs lightly before tucking his hands into the pockets of his coat, rocking forward and back on the balls of his feet. Koschei wordlessly gestures for him to speak first, staring at a fixed point on the floor. 

“You’re…doing well, then, I see,” the Doctor tries. “How does it feel to be an Avenger?” 

“Doctor, your deflection tactics have never worked on me and they never will,” he mumbles back. 

“Right. Right. It’s just all a bit /weird/, though, isn’t it? How much everything’s changed. Never would’ve predicted, well, /any of this/.” Gesturing wildly around the room, the Doctor comes over to the bed and plops down next to Koschei, a respectable distance between them. Koschei doesn’t answer, doesn’t react, and after a moment the Doctor sighs. “I’m sorry. I was too harsh to you and—,”

“Cruel. You were cruel,” Koschei deadpans, hands white-knuckle gripping the duvet. 

“Yes,” he concedes, leaning back a bit. “Yes, I was cruel. I’ve…been cruel, haven’t I?”

“Yes.”

“…Koschei, you must understand. All those years, you did /so much/—,”

“/No/, I /didn’t/,” Koschei practically snarls out the words this time, unexpected anger flaring up in his chest as he turns on the bed to face the Doctor. “I did /nothing./ The Master used me as a puppet for /centuries/ and you blamed me for not cutting the strings when I couldn’t even move my own hand! You…you have /no idea/ how much you made me hate myself. You have no idea how you broke me. After /everything/, after all those years of pining after you and struggling and wishing, so /fucking/ desperately, that we were back in our wedding bed when nothing mattered except the two of us, you /ruined it!/ I came to you for help and forgiveness and love and you /spat in my face!/!” When he finishes his rant, he has angry tears streaming down his cheeks and his hands are shaking, now balled into fists at his side. The Doctor sighs and reaches out for him, and gods, Koschei /really/ wants to push him away, stand his ground and keep his distance, but the second he sees the Doctor’s arms open for him he crumbles, sobbing shamelessly into the Doctor’s chest and clinging to him with all he has. 

The Doctor shushes him softly but lets him get it out, rubbing his back and mumbling apologies into his hair. The scratchy fabric of his suit is almost soothing against Koschei’s cheek and he smells like Gallifrey, smells like home, and he can’t help nuzzling closer. “Hush now, I’ve got you; it’s alright,” the Doctor coos in a language dead beyond the two of them. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’ve been alone too long. I’ve been hurt too much.” 

“/So have I/,” Koschei answers back, teary and miserable. The Doctor sighs and shifts on the bed. Koschei forces himself to pull away, wiping his cheeks self-consciously and sniffling. “Sorry,” he mumbles. 

“Quite alright. It’s to be expected.”

This doesn’t comfort him in the slightest and he grimaces to himself, shaking his head. 

“Look,” the Doctor continues, giving him a slight smile. “I know I said some…cruel things, yes, but I just saw how that team of yours views you. I know what they think of you. You came to this universe to /become a hero/, and that’s exactly what you did! Koschei, that’s /brilliant!/ It’s what I’ve always hoped to see from you, and you did it in spades and for the greater good, not to please me or any else. I may not agree with your…methods, but I am /so proud/ of what you’ve become.” 

It’s exactly what he’s always wanted the Doctor to say.

With a shaky breath, Koschei closes his eyes to help himself calm down, counting the beats of his hearts. The Doctor’s changing his mind so much it’s giving him whiplash. He doesn’t /know/ what to expect anymore — surely he wasn’t /imagining/ how cruel he was being, right? …Was it truly as bad as he remembers? Koschei is prone to over-reacting, so maybe he—  
No. No, that’s exactly what the Doctor wants to happen. He knows what he went through. He knows what he remembers. Koschei opens his eyes and regards the Doctor cooly, straightening up. “I don’t believe you.” 

The Doctor blinks at him, shocked. Koschei pushes on.

“You were telling me you regret marrying me /more than/ destroying our planet an hour ago, and now you expect me to believe you’re over that now and are actually /proud of me/?” 

“Koschei, what — do you think I’m /lying/ to you? Talking was /my/ choice. What reason do I have to lie?!” The Doctor demands, eyes narrowing. Koschei doesn’t immediately have an answer and loses his bravado more with every passing second. 

“I-it just,” he stammers, “doesn’t make much sense, is all. It seems rather like you’re just trying to…manipulate me. Keep the upper hand.” Oh yes. This makes /sense./ It’s embarrassing he didn’t realize this earlier. “You’re using my feelings for you to keep you in power over me.” 

“Or /maybe/, just maybe, I…miss you. Even if I didn’t want to admit it to myself. Even if I still don’t want to much.” The Doctor rests his hand on Koschei’s shoulder, thumb rubbing back and forth, and Koschei jerks back like he was burned. 

“No.”

“Koschei—,”

“/No./ You don’t get to…no. I am with Steve. I am in /love with Steve./ He treats me better than I could ever dream of deserving and he loves me back and he /doesn’t put himself above me./ And I will be /damned/ if you come here and—,”

“—Koschei, I wasn’t hitting on you.” 

“….You weren’t?”

The Doctor laughs but it isn’t mocking, and Koschei feels the anger seep out of him. “/No/. It’s obvious you’re happy with Steve, and he with you, and — forgive me if you think this is cruel — I don’t magically have feelings for you again. I miss you as a friend. That’s all.” 

Oh. Gods, he just jumped down the Doctor’s throat for nothing. No wonder he doesn’t have feelings for him. No wonder he expects Koschei to over-react upon hearing that. “Oh,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck self-consciously. “But — I mean. You can’t stay here. As soon as you travel back to your universe, you’ll be stuck there.” 

“Yes, well, you and me seem to have a knack for finding each other, don’t we?” the Doctor beams, nudging him with his shoulder. “We’ll figure it out, hmm?” 

“Yeah,” Koschei answers absently, not even looking at him anymore. His head hurts. He wants Steve. He — and this is truly a first — wants the Doctor to leave. “Wait.” His head snaps up, the Doctor’s words registering. “No. No, Doctor, I can’t—no.” 

“I’m still not hitting on you,” the Doctor teases. Koschei feels himself start to smile but he stops himself.

“I know that. Doctor, we…you’re not healthy with me. To me. It…hurts to look at you and I feel like a fool when you’re around and I’m just not…ready. Maybe someday, if you, you know, mean it, we could — possibly, I mean — try to be friends, but for now I just…can’t.” Koschei bows his head with the last word, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. He’s doing the right thing, but he was never meant to reject the Doctor. 

The Doctor, who is curiously silent. 

Koschei hazards a peek up at him and he’s met with wide, hurt eyes and he wants to leap off a cliff. “You think I’m…toxic to you?” the Doctor asks slowly, blinking owlishly at him. Koschei feels like the biggest arsehole in both their universes, but he nods silently. “Well. You don’t want to — I dunno — work on that? With me? We can learn to be healthy for each other, Koschei. We were pretty close friends once upon a time, if you’ll remember. We can do that again.” 

“Not…now.”

“When?”

“I don’t — there’s no set schedule for me to get over my trauma, Doctor!” Koschei sighs, suddenly exasperated, throwing his arms up. “I don’t /know/ how long it will take me.” 

“Pretty rich hearing you call yourself the traumatized one,” the Doctor accuses, pursing his lips. 

“We can /both be traumatized./ This is exactly what I mean. You’re manipulative. Specifically, to me. You /specifically and exclusively manipulate me/.”

“Perhaps you’re just easy to sway.”

“I’m no—,”

“Was certainly easy for the Master to do.”

Koschei flounders for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut again at the hurt that shoots through him, before he shakes his head and opens them. “You didn’t mean it. Any of the nice things you’ve been saying. If you did, you wouldn’t say /that/.” 

“You don’t /know that/. Blimey, you read one self-help book and now you think you can psychoanalyze me?!”

“/I know you, Doctor./ No matter what we feel for each other or where we are, the fact remains that I know you like the back of my hand.”

“And I you.”

“I am painfully aware of that, trust me,” Koschei grunts. The Doctor scoffs and rolls his eyes, standing up from the bed and stretching. 

“So that’s it then. You don’t even want to try. You want to let your over-reactions win, instead of doing anything to fix them. Fix us.” 

“…Yes. I’m sorry, Doctor. I’m sorry. But I need to do what’s right for me — I’ve been working on that.” 

“If you let me go now, I’ll have no reason to try and come back.”

“I know.” 

He and the Doctor stare at each other for a few, painful moments, before Koschei stands up and, after awkwardly hedging around the Doctor, opens his bedroom door. “I’ll walk you to the TARDIS,” Koschei offers, trying a small smile. The Doctor gives him a scathing glare before he composes his expression and nods.

He leads the way back, and just as it’s always been, Koschei follows.


	3. After.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Koschei talk, very briefly, about the Doctor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told ya!! Enjoy some short boning.

“Do you regret it?” Steve murmurs in between warm, damp kisses down Koschei’s torso. Koschei hums and smooths his fingers through Steve’s hair, marveling as always at the soft strands that twine around his fingers, and relaxes back against the pillows. 

“No. Well,” he sighs a bit, amending himself, “part of me does. But I know I shouldn’t.”

“Ain’t good to scold yourself like that, babe. Told you that,” he chides gently, tonguing along the V of Koschei’s hips, making him shift on the bed and exhale shakily. 

“I know,” Koschei says. He bites his lower lip and leans up on his elbows to watch. “But still. …You’re certain you’re not jealous or upset?” 

Steve pauses what he’s doing to smirk up at Koschei, his eyes twinkling and dark with lust. “Doll, you made him leave the /universe/, and I’ve got you spread out under me. I ain’t the one who should be jealous.” Koschei giggles a bit at that, balancing on one forearm to stroke the back of his hand across Steve’s cheek. “Besides, this is about /you./ It’s not wrong for you to regret it, even if it was the right choice. …Yes, yes, I’m returning, Christ you’re impatient,” he laughs, playfully nipping at the hand Koschei was using to push him downwards.

“/Good/. ...I don’t regret it, though. Really, I don’t. Just the idea of it almost gave me an anxiety attack. Besides,” he gasps out, arching up from the bed when Steve’s mouth engulfs his cock down to the root, “this is /much/ better.” 

Steve answers him by humming around him, and finally, /finally/, all the talking was done.


End file.
